No Surprises
by brilliantmemories
Summary: Altaïr has caught the cold just before he and Malik head to Solomon's temple. Being a close friend, Malik is assigned by Al Mualim to take care of him. "Keep your distance, or you too, might get sick." Words in one ear, out the other. AltMal.


**A/N:** Finally! This took me a while, and I hope LollerpopOfEvil can forgive me for that ^^ My first request, yay! Anyways, Malik has both of his arms, yay, and both of them are actually... rather light-hearted, since this is pre-Solomon's Temple.

* * *

**No Surprises**

Malik sighed as he brought another bowl of ice cold water to Altaïr's bedside.

Slowly, he dipped the fresh cloth into the water and placed it across the assassin's forehead. Groaning, Altaïr opened his eyes to see Malik loaming over him. He smiled at him, pressing the cloth against his forehead gently, reassuring. It hadn't been anything major; just a few coughs and sneezes every once and a while and a fever that woke him every few hours. He had been stripped of his heavier robes and now wore something lighter, his bare chest exposed in the warm summer's air. His sigh of relief caused Malik's heart to skip a beat as he pulled his hands away slowly.

"Mmm... that feels better than it did before," Altaïr cooed, his eyes gradually closing again. He shifted around on the pillows, trying to get into a suitable position that would ease a bit of discomfort.

"That is good, or else I would not know what to do with you," Malik chuckled as he began to stand up. Just as he turned his back to the sick assassin, the man's hand reached out and grabbed his ankle. Intrigued, Malik bent back down with a smile. "Yes, Altaïr? What is it you desire?"

He merely smiled back him, which struck him as severely odd. Altaïr didn't smile unless something extremely pleased him; like the kill of a target or if he won a sword match against Malik – although that was more of a smirk than an actual smile. But before he could say anything to him, Altaïr grabbed the front of his robes and crushed their lips together. From his very core to the tips of his fingers, shivers shot through his body like fire spreading through dry grass. Their mouths moved in perfect synchronization, hands grabbing for something to hold them down. Malik could feel his undisclosed desires threatening to break the surface, trying to get past the wall that kept him sane.

Even as Altaïr pulled back for a large breath, Malik felt like he didn't need it. The adrenaline feeling alone was enough to keep him doing for hours, for days. He pushed through Altaïr's personal space, capturing his lips once more. He felt his hands trembling, his head swimming with ecstasy, as Altaïr pulled him onto his lap.

Desperately, Malik fumbled with the ties that held his robe together. With one quick movement, Altaïr pulled the string, causing the robe to slide off his shoulders and pool around his hips. His voice hitched as Altaïr ran his cold hands along his sides, pulling him down for another kiss. The intensity was the same as the first kiss, if anything it was _more_, like another flame exploding in the pit of his stomach at the captivating physical contact. With their warm, bare chests pressed together, his desires were pressing upon the cracked glass, daring it to shatter beneath the pressure.

"Mmm... Malik?" Altaïr breathed, holding Malik's chin in his hands gently.

"W-what is it...?" He groaned, trying to close the space between though. Altaïr held him back with ease, the muscles in his arms flexing unintentionally.

"Do you not remember Al Mualim's words?" The assassin spoke with a coy smile, pulling Malik back to him slowly. Their lips were just merely inches apart.

"... Who cares?" Malik growled playfully, trying to brush their lips together but Altaïr knew how to dodge him with ease.

"You are going to get sick, Malik," he scowled, finally pushing the older man back. He felt his heart skip with excitement, but with disappointment as well.

"... Just... once more?" He asked with hopeful eyes and as he pushed down further, he could feel Altaïr's hips dig into his inner thighs. Altaïr sighed heavily, feeling the heavy friction between them. Malik knew from Altaïr's roguish smile that he was in the clear and finally, he closed the space in between them.

- - -

"I send you to take care of him... and this is what I get in return?" Al Mualim scowled, crossing his arms.

Malik lay in a bed, sniffling every few moments with Altaïr beside him. Just as Al Mualim opened his mouth, Altaïr sneezed loudly, and apologized in a quiet whisper.

"I told you to keep your distance or else you would catch-"

"What had been done is done, _master_," Altaïr snapped, immediately regretting his irrevocable outburst. Al Mualim raised his hand, as if he were to hit him, but merely scratched the back of his head.

"I suppose you speak the truth, my son," he sighed. "Rest well, for we need you two to take on a mission to retrieve something to me. To recover a _lost treasure_ for me," his eyes shone as he spoke, lips pulled back into a coy smile. He turned on his heels, leaving the two assassins to their recovery. As soon as the master was out of ear shot, Altaïr turned and looked at Malik.

"What?"

"I told you so," Altaïr grinned, lying on his side. Malik rolled his eyes and turned his back against him. As he closed his eyes, he felt Altaïr shuffle evidently towards him. The squeaks of the bed caused him to smile slightly. Slowly, he felt a familiar arm wrap around his side, another source of warmth press up against his back. He turned and looked over his shoulder to see Altaïr's golden eyes gazing warmly at him.

And with a kiss, all his efforts on keeping the cracked glass together was to no avail.


End file.
